


Consecration

by ohmyloki



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Sex Magic, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:59:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyloki/pseuds/ohmyloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Darcy/Loki Smutfic Exchange.</p><p>Prompt: Loki and Darcy decide to ‘christen’ Steve’s new apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consecration

**Author's Note:**

> Weeee.... So here's my 3rd time writing anything and I went head first into smut. Don't be too harsh!

“I do not appreciate the way the Captain looks at you.”

“Steve?”

“He is the Captain, is he not?”

“What do you mean? How does he look at me?”

“He looks at you as if you were something to consume.”

“ _What?_ No he doesn’t.”

“That he does and I am not sure how much longer I will be able to tolerate such insolence.”

“Insolence? Really?” Darcy rolled her eyes and continued tapping away at her computer, “Even if he does stare, which I highly doubt, you’re probably just being paranoid, he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just... still not entirely used to the way women in the 21st century act as a whole, much less how _I_ act alone.” She paused for a moment, “Anyway, he’s been a complete gentlemen since I turned him down - not that he wasn’t before, of course.”

Darcy, in all her infinite wisdom, realized that this was the exact definition of ‘wrong thing to say’ when the room went completely silent. And a bit chilly. She risked turning her head to glance over her shoulder. Loki was still sitting by the window, one of his decrepit looking books in his lap, but he was unnaturally still. His gaze fixed on a point far away in the distance, Darcy wasn’t sure if he was even breathing. Sighing resolutely, she folded her laptop and turned to face him.

“Don’t hurt him.”

Silence.

“ _Pretty please_ don’t hurt him?”

Darcy had heard the phrase ‘deafening silence’ before but had never experienced it herself but now the silence became so loud that she briefly contemplated if she could afford the trip to a doctor to fix a ruptured eardrum. Darcy sighed again- it really was becoming a habit in regards to Loki- as she stood up and walked over to him, plucking the book out of his hands. She set it down on the coffee table and plopped into his lap hard, hoping for a reaction of any kind. A slight exhale let her know that Loki was, in fact, not a statue.

“Look at me,” she said, cupping his face in her hands and leaning in. His eyes shifted to meet hers. The fact that they were completely devoid of any emotion was quite possibly more frightening than when they flashed with anger.

She stilled for a moment, debating on which route to take. She _could_ play up the fact that he’s the Norse God of Mischief and Chaos, that he’s stronger than Steve in every imaginable way. That would surely stroke his ego. She could go the more romantic/cheesy route and tell him that there’s no other man in the universe for her, that he’s her everything, so on and so forth. And while Loki sometimes took a bit too much pride in his calm, cool exterior, they had been together long enough that Darcy knew he had a bit of a romantic side to him and would appreciate the words nonetheless.

But, quite frankly, Darcy was sick of his shit. Steve was a nice guy, and he’d done nothing untoward. So what if he’d make eyes at her every once in awhile? It’s perfectly within his rights to take a look and the fact that the super soldier wanted to look at _her_ was a bit of an ego boost, deity boyfriend or no. Ultimately, she decided to just be truthful to the God of Lies.

“Get over it,” she said bluntly and Loki, most likely expecting the flattery or romance route, narrowed his eyes at her in a bit of shock.

“I’m a woman. I’ve got breasts. People are going to look at me. I can’t have you running off in a murderous rampage every time someone so much as glances in my direction more often than you would ‘appreciate’.” She took a breath to collect herself before going on.

“Do you have any idea how often I see girls openly undress you with their eyes right in front of me? Guys, too!” Running a hand through his hair and resting it on the back of his head, she continued, “It doesn’t matter. Whatever anyone else may be doing. Whoever looks at me, asks me out, whatever.. I chose you. I _choose_ you. I am yours and you are mine, by the way. And _that_ is all that matters.” She could feel him loosening up a bit beneath her and she smiled. “Besides, I doubt anyone will try anything. You can squash them all like bugs if you wanted.” She finished, flicking his nose and dropping her hands to his shoulders. Alright, so a little flattery never hurt anyone.

He ran a hand up her shin to the top of her knee absentmindedly, stony expression melting into contemplation. Darcy had always loved the way his mouth looked when he’s deep in thought. His lips parted slightly, just begging for her to run her tongue over them. Her eyes trailed from his lips and down his deliciously long neck that contrasted wonderfully against the black button down shirt he was wearing. He had a nasty habit of leaving the top few undone.

Of course, it was only nasty in the sense that Darcy had a hard time keeping her hands to herself when she got too close to the broad, pale expanse of his chest hiding behind the material. She ran a hand down from his shoulder and toyed with the green patterned scarf hanging loosely around his neck while he continued sorting through whatever was going on inside his devious mind. She shifted slightly in his lap in an attempt to get comfortable and her eyes flicked back up to his when his grip tightened on her knee. The expression on his face had changed once again, his eyes smouldering with the ever present hint of mischief beneath. He grinned devilishly when she licked her lips and his hand made it’s way to her hip, the other snaking behind her head.

“You are mine.” He said. Not questioning but still seeking confirmation.

“All yours.” Darcy replied, smirking.

“Well then, I think I shall stake my claim.” He said before bringing her head down, crashing her lips against his.

Loki was talented in many things, kissing was no exception to that rule. His mouth moved fervently against hers, nibbling and sucking on her bottom lip. When Darcy’s mouth parted slightly in a gasp, his tongue pressed forward, cool and invading. They fought each other for dominance, tongue sliding against tongue, pushing and pulling, teeth nipping each other. The lower temperature of his kiss gave Darcy a bit of a thrill, knowing the she, and she alone, was privy to this knowledge. At least on this planet.

Loki’s hand traveled down from the back of Darcy’s neck to her side and in a swift motion, lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and repositioned her so she was straddling him. She groaned when she felt the telltale sign of his arousal pressed up against her. Loki smiled into the kiss, teeth flat and smooth against Darcy’s lips, and then pulled her hips down harder around him, grinding her into him slowly. Darcy’s lower body pooled with a rush of heat.

The kiss continued, turning from quick and wanton into something slower yet no less passionate. His hands remained on her waist. Darcy had never had much patience in life and she had even less when there was an Asgardian God pressing up into her, begging to be stripped of clothing. She tried to wiggle her hips a little, seeking friction to aid her in releasing the ache between her legs but found it difficult in his vice-like grip. The motion got her point across, however, and Loki’s hold on her waned as he slipped one of his large, strong hands under her shirt spanning almost the entire width of her back. She shivered at the contact as his other hand returned to her head, delving into her thick brown hair.

He pulled her flush to him, kissing her with increased intensity. God, he was good at this. Her mind was starting to fog over with lust. His lips, tongue and teeth were driving her crazy, building her up until suddenly the air left the room. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and she was aware of the light outside of her closed lids flashed briefly. She gasped, pulling away.

“What-” Her head swiveled around, realizing that they were still on a couch in a living room. It was just no longer Darcy’s couch or Darcy’s living room.

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters! Whose place did we just break into?”

“Now, darling, I believe you said that all that _matters_ is that you are mine as I am yours.” Loki innocently parroted her own words as Darcy fixed him with a narrowed gaze.

“Seriously, I’m not a big fan of people walking in on me mid-coitus. _Where are we_?” His eyebrows went up slightly at her words and he pulled her head back down a bit roughly, running his nose along her jawline.

“Do you not find a thrill in the forbidden?” His voice was low and sinful against her ear. “The rush of knowing that someone may walk in and see you splayed out at my mercy, writhing in pleasure? That they may hear you moaning my name as you come undone beneath me?”

The combination of the words he was speaking and his cool breath on her neck had all the sense rushing out of Darcy’s head in a mere second. His hands were back under her shirt, running his nimble fingers just under her breasts. He took an earlobe between his teeth and circled it with his tongue causing Darcy to let out a low moan. She tried resisting, she truly did. But her patience ran out and she snapped.

She turned her head, capturing Loki’s lips in another kiss, hard and fast. She made quick work of the buttons of his shirt and placed her hands on the firm planes of his abdomen, running her fingers over the ridges that formed there. He shifted, lips never leaving hers, as he sat forward on the edge of the foreign couch allowing her to push his shirt completely off before wrapping his arms around her again, hips thrusting up slightly.

With a slight twitch of his hand, Darcy found herself naked from the waist up. She smirked at his impatience, the thought of him getting _that_ riled up in turn riling _her_ up. The skin on skin contact caused a pool of heat and wetness to rush between her legs, her nipples tightening as she pressed into his chest.

Loki took her by surprise when he stood up abruptly, bringing her with him in a smooth motion. She wrapped her legs around his waist to keep herself from falling, the movement causing her breasts to rub sensuously against him and for his length to press harder into her. She sank her teeth into the crook of his neck to keep from making another sound. With a slight growl, Loki tugged on Darcy’s hair, wrenching her head to the side as he attacked her neck with wreckless abandon. Sucking and biting, his teeth scraping against her pale flesh most assuredly leaving a mark that would still be present in the morning.

Breaking contact, he deposited her on the top of a dining table she had spotted earlier, shoved up against the wall across the room. He took a step back from her, her legs dangling off the table from the knees down, leaning back on her elbows, the cold wood of the smooth surface underneath her. His mouth was flushed, red and swollen. His eyes dark with desire and his hair, shorter than when they first met, was disheveled and fell in pieces on his forehead. _This_ was the look of a man who wanted to devour Darcy, the look of a man ready ruin her for all others;  not the fleeting looks with wide, innocent eyes from Steve Rogers, a man who was still known to blush when an attractive woman approached him.

His eyes mapped her body slowly, like he had all the time in the world, like Darcy wasn’t ready to spontaneously combust if he didn’t do something, _anything_ soon. Just as she was about to make a complaint, he stepped forward in between her legs as she spread them for him, more than willingly. He loomed over her, his presence, as always, large and impressive as his gaze lit her body on fire. Metaphorically speaking.

He leaned over her, forcing her to lay back on table. His hands were on either side of her head, his face hovering over hers.

“ _I_ will be the one to consume you this night. You will come apart so magnificently under my tongue that you will forget all semblance of speech save for my name. And once I have had my fill of you, once my face is dripping wet with your essence; I will fuck you into this table so hard you will no longer be able to remember even that.”

Darcy trembled at his use of Midgardian slang. He rarely indulged in such things deeming them to be too primitive for him, the harsh words contrasting exquisitely with his princely exterior. Every part of her body ached to be touched by him, knowing he wasn’t bragging, that it wasn’t just an exaggeration. Loki was fully capable of delivering on everything he had just promised. She nodded slightly, the only response she could muster.

He closed the space between them, kissing her hard and forcing her mouth open as he teased her tongue with his. He gave her breast a rough squeeze as he rolled his hips into hers. Breaking the kiss he trailed his nose down her jaw and further, nipping her collarbone and licking one long streak to the hollow of her neck. When his mouth reached her breast he flicked her nipple lightly with his tongue before taking it into his mouth as he worried the other with a free hand.  He busied himself, sucking lightly, tracing circles hard and then soft. He ran a flat, wide tongue over the bud before nibbling the tip lightly with his teeth. He was driving Darcy insane and he knew it.

When she attempted to move her hips against his, his hand came down and pushed them firmly into the table as he chuckled low into her chest. That same hand then reached between them, carefully cupping her between her legs, feeling the heat and the dampness that had already soaked through her thin slacks. She was not proud of the noise she made as his fingers moved in slow circles against her.

His mouth left her breast and he kissed his way down her stomach, dipping a tongue into her belly button before reaching the top of her pants. Another flick of the hand and all that was left between his mouth and her was the lacy black thong. He sank down onto his knees, the table at the perfect height to position her directly in front of them. He shifted the lacy fabric aside and ran a finger lightly over her crease, teasing.

“ _Please_ , Loki.” She managed to keep most of the begging tone out of her voice.

Slowly, _agonizingly_ , slid her thong down her legs, pressing kisses fleetingly down her thighs to her ankles as he did so. When he was done, he placed his hands on her hips, his thumbs rubbing lightly between her legs where her thighs met her body and she felt herself quiver in response.

Using his fingers to spread her apart, he ducked his head and give a slow lick, humming in pleasure. Darcy moaned and lifted her legs to rest her feet on his shoulders. At that, Loki dove in earnestly. Alternating between licking and sucking, his finger traced her entrance and she felt herself clench in response, wanting so desperately for him to push in. But he didn’t. He teased instead, building her up slowly until she was just on the brink, pushing a fingertip in just ever so slightly and then pulling it out again to trace circles along the outside as he backed off. Darcy was writhing on the table, her breasts heaving as her hands grasped at the slick surface underneath her, words and sounds falling out of her lips with no meaning.

Finally- oh thank god, finally- he pushed all the way in, a second finger joining the first. Pumping them in and out of her in tandem with the patterns he was tracing over her clit, Darcy gasped loudly when he crooked his fingers and sent a small shock of magic, hitting the bundle of nerves inside her and sending a renewed wave of pleasure through her body. She felt Loki grin against her as he kept up the motion. This was new and Darcy knew she wouldn’t last much longer if he kept it up. And keep it up he did. His tongue doing impossible things, swirling around her clit, his fingers filling her and sending shocks up her spine with every thrust.

“God. Oh, god. Loki, I’m going to-” his fingers moved inside her as he sent one final, larger jolt of magic into her. Darcy was floating on wave after wave of pleasure, her body buzzing with energy and her mind completely and blissfully blank. Her eyes opened, half lidded as she saw Loki, standing and grinning, wipe his mouth with his forearm and remove the rest of his clothing. He positioned himself back between her legs and hooked his arms underneath them as he pressed his length into her slick folds. He glanced back up and met her eyes before pushing in slowly and carefully. He let out a low groan as he filled her, her walls gripping him tightly.

When he was certain her body had adjusted to his intrusion, he set a punishing rhythm. Thrusting hard and fast, the table creaked under the sudden punishment and Darcy thought she heard the small sound of glass breaking. He slid in and out of her as his name fell from her lips like a prayer, and how fitting he found it that she would indeed be praying to him. He released her legs and bent over her, as she locked her ankles around his waist. She leaned up and wrapped one arm under his, another behind his neck to bring his head down for a kiss as he pressed a hand into the small of her back.

The sudden shift in angle, the feeling of his body pressed flush against hers and the invading slickness of his tongue was finally enough to send Darcy over the edge for a second time that evening. Her body locked down around him, every muscle seizing in absolute rapture as she came apart at the seams. Somewhere in the fog in her mind she was aware of his smooth rhythm beginning to stutter, his hips jerking more manic and uneven. Outside the blinding haze of her own pleasure, still sending wonderful aftershocks, she felt Loki pull her tighter against his chest, just this side of uncomfortable. He let out another sound, halfway between a growl and a moan as he himself came apart inside of her and when he finally went still, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily.

Darcy went completely limp, feeling like every bone in her body had bailed out on her. She let out a huff of air, an attempt at a laugh and she felt his teeth against her shoulder as he grinned.

“Are you feeling well, darling?” He said in a breathy voice.

“Mmm,” was the only response she could form and he chuckled again.

“Oh, yes. I believe I informed you of your impending lack of speech, did I not?” He kissed her shoulder softly. Just as he was about to speak again, no doubt touting how own abilities, they heard the distinct sound of keys jingling outside the door.

“Loki!” she hissed.

“Yes, my love. I suppose I’m not particularly fond of being found in this position either.” And with another shift in the atmosphere, Darcy found herself in her own apartment, on her own bed curled around the God of Mischief. She glanced up at him, her head on his chest.

“Are you going to tell me who’s place we were in?” He just smirked at her in response, kissed her hair and closed his eyes. Darcy rolled her own eyes and snuggled in tighter, too worn out to truly care.

* * *

Later, after they took a nap and went for round two, Darcy was sorting through the pile of clothes that Loki had transported back with them from wherever they were.

“Loki, what did you do with my underwear?”

Glancing up from his spot in his book, Loki’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is the underwear I was wearing earlier today. Black, lacy. The underwear that you took off of me in somebody else’s apartment.” He continued staring at her, a slightly confused look on his face.

“Are they not with the rest of your attire? I assure you I brought back everything of yours in sight.”

Darcy just rolled her eyes again, another habit that was becoming all too common in their relationship. As she turned away, shaking her head, she missed the grin that flickered across his lips.

* * *

Steve fished his keys out of his pocket, grateful to finally be home- or, rather, happy to be back to his new apartment. He hadn’t had the time to turn it into a home quite yet, aside from a few knick knacks and photographs. As his keys entered the lock, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and a shiver passed through him. He glanced around, weary of a possible attack- he has _just_ moved here, dammit- and, seeing none, ducked into his apartment, shutting the door behind him.

He went to dump the bag he had slung over his shoulder onto the table when he noticed a space on the wall which was previously occupied, now empty. He looked down and saw the picture frame laying on the floor, the pane of glass cracked. He bent down to pick it up, smiling at the picture of him and Darcy sitting at Coulson’s bedside in the hospital. All of them grinning brightly, with tears brimming in their eyes.

Just as he was about to stand up a small bundle of fabric caught his eyes. Laying under the table, it would have been out of sight had he been standing. He reached over, quizzically, and lifted it up. His eyebrows shot up to his forehead and he dropped the black lace like it had suddenly gone up in flames when the realization of what he was holding popped into his mind. He let out a choked noise before casing the room for anything amiss. That’s when he spotted, hanging over the back of his brand new couch, an all too familiar green scarf. His eyes darted to the lady’s undergarment and back to the scarf a few times, jaw clenched. The blush seeped onto his face when the pieces finally clicked into place.


End file.
